


i wanna feel you from the inside

by orphan_account



Series: yoi filth [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Barebacking, Beard-Burn, Beards (Facial Hair), Felching, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, Semi-Public Sex, Stubble Burn, bearded viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Viktor decides to participate in Movember.Yuuri discovers many exciting new things about himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [all you're giving me is friction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524735) by [alykapedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia). 



> i know what you're thinking: forochel, did you really write ~8k worth of bearded!sex? 
> 
> yes, yes i did, and it is [alykapedia's fault](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/102112146). alykapedia's and the virus that's working its way through my system. 
> 
> the title is ofc from the nasty NIN classic [Closer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTFwQP86BRs), title track to the playlist that got me through thinking of like 7 different ways to describe victuuri coming. jfc.
> 
> happy easter, you filthy sinners.

**Movember - Celebrity Partners - 2020**

_Viktor Nikiforov_ \- 5-time World Champion, medallist at _3_ Winter Olympics, and winner of more other figure skating medals than we could possibly list here - has decided to partner with Movember this year! Notorious almost as much for his domination of the sport as his beauty, no one actually can remember if he’s ever gone unshaven. 

“I don’t think I can either,” Viktor muses as we go over the paperwork. “At least not for more than half an hour. Or maybe an hour, tops. In the morning.”

“Not even on your honeymoon?” we ask curiously - Viktor is also, of course, married to the _other_ living legend of men’s figure skating, Katsuki Yuuri. Katsuki, who’s sitting in on the meeting and professes to be incapable of taking part of Movember even if he wanted to, makes a face that says no.

Viktor will be donating the sum he normally spends on maintaining his good looks (it’s confidential, guys, but trust us: _it’s a lot_ ) in a month, and the power couple has promised to match every donation dollar-for-dollar on Viktor’s fundraising page here. 

 

**Day 1**

 

He’s almost managed to forget that today’s the day he promised to lay down his shaving kit. So it’s just as well that as Viktor is nuzzling his way down the tempting line of Yuuri’s back, bared by a rucked-up shirt, Yuuri shifts and makes a low noise. 

Grinning, Viktor sucks a kiss into the base of his spine - usually guaranteed to make Yuuri go pliant and soft. 

Yuuri stiffens.

Drawing back, Viktor asks, “Yuuri?” 

“Ah,” Yuuri says, sleepy and sweet. “No, it’s just... surprising.” He reaches around and blindly pets until he finds Viktor’s cheek. 

“Oh.” Viktor bites his lip. Stubble’s already grown in over the night, slightly uneven on his cheeks and bristly over the top of his lip. “You don’t like it?” 

He doesn’t get a reply for a while - maybe Yuuri’s fallen back asleep, maybe not. Either way, heart sinking, Viktor’s resigning himself to a month of no sex. Or kisses. Oh god. The things he does to raise funds for prostate cancer. 

“No,” Yuuri says at long last, muffled into the pillow. “No, it’s fine, please. Don’t stop.”

 

**Day 3**

 

It’s been three days of Yuuri fidgeting and wearing his softest, most worn-in Mizuno shirts for practice. Viktor has been putting it down to the epic beard-burn Yuuri has on his back .. and across the top of his shoulders ... and on the nape of his neck. Yuuri flushes so beautifully: seeing his skin permanently pinkened does things to Viktor.

It does things to Yuuri too, apparently. 

Yuuri’s taken first shower (“we waste _so much water_ when we ‘shower together’, Vitya,” Yuuri had said while disapprovingly looking at their utilities bill a month ago. Viktor had never looked at his utilities bill before) and through the gap in the bathroom door, Viktor can just about make out Yuuri stroking over the back of his neck with a complicated look on his face.

Viktor might have angled himself on the settee in the bedroom just so he could watch Yuuri in the shower. He’s pretty sure Yuuri knows and has generously allowed it - his Yuuri, so giving. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri calls out, his voice distorted by the glass walls of the shower and the steam in the air.

Leaping to his feet - and then wincing, because _ow, his feet_ \- Viktor makes his eager way to the bathroom. “Yes, my love?” 

“Do we have any aloe?”

Viktor blinks, then pushes his way into bathroom proper to look through the armada of bottles on the countertop. “Probably, why?”

“Um, well,” Yuuri says, sounding embarrassed. “My skin ... it’s stinging?” 

The spectre of _no kisses or sex for November_ seems to solidify right before Viktor’s eyes; he clutches at the countertop. 

“Oh no,” Viktor pushes out of his chest. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

The shower shuts off, and Yuuri slides the shower door open. He’s pink all over, from the heat of his shower, and redder where Viktor’s stubble had rubbed against him. 

Viktor pulls down the softest micro-fibre towel they have and wraps Yuuri up in it, patting him dry. 

“Mm,” Yuuri sighs, head dropping to the side. “That feels nice.”

Normally, Viktor would take that as a sign to nuzzle into soft skin stretched over tendons, maybe have a little bit of a nibble. But now - well. He gives Yuuri a gentle push towards the bedroom.

“Go lie down, love, I’ll put on the aloe for you after my shower.” 

And moisturise the _hell_ out of his incoming beard while he’s at it. 

 

**Day 5**

 

Being a virile and healthy young Russian man, no matter what Yuri Plisetsky may say (or shout, as is more likely), Viktor’s beard is growing in very nicely along his cheeks and around his mouth. 

Instagram says so. 

Yuuri’s been obligingly taking the Instagram shots; he has an annoyingly good eye for the camera, for someone who so rarely shares his photographs. This morning’s had been particularly good: a mirror shot of Viktor neatening the bristles over the top of his lip, eyes intent and sharp in the mirror, long fingers pulling the skin around his mouth taut. 

Those same fingers, now, are squeezing tight round the base of Yuuri’s cock as Viktor suckles gently, oh-so-gently at the soft, sensitive skin just under his gorgeously wet and red glans, smearing pre-cum over Viktor’s stubbled cheek. Curving over Viktor like he’s been punched in the abdomen, Yuuri’s gasping and scrabbling at the fleece throw underneath him, and when Viktor _rubs_ with his cheek, Yuuri’s hands fly to pet uncoordinatedly at his hair even as he makes a delicious noise that Viktor’s never heard before.. 

“Vi -” Yuuri hitches out between moans, as Viktor presses sucking kisses down to where his fingers are gripping Yuuri, and nuzzles his way back up. “-it- _ya_ -ah! St-stop teasi - _ngh._ ” 

“But Yuuri,” Viktor smirks, lips brushing against where Yuuri’s _dripping_ with every word. “You like this, don’t you?” He leans in to kiss Yuuri right on the head, mouth still shaped around the ‘u’, and sinks all the way down before Yuuri can respond.

Yuuri _shrieks_ , hips bucking, and Viktor is very glad that Maccachin is locked in the guest bedroom. Breathing in deeply through his nose and relaxing his throat, Viktor groans a little when the fingers in his hair _clutch_ tight; he’s using both hands to hold Yuuri down now, nose nestled against the dark, musky thatch of hair at the base of Yuuri’s cock. It goes straight to Viktor’s cock, the smell of Yuuri there: sweat and sex and desperation. 

He starts bobbing, to the rhythm of the Yuuri’s pants: up and down on every half-scream and choking gasp out of Yuuri’s throat. Viktor’s cock is twitching under his bathrobe, slicking up a mess against his belly, but he wants to make this last, wants to make Yuuri come all over himself and then clean Yuuri up with his mouth, drag his stubble all over the thin skin over Yuuri’s hipbones, feel Yuuri’s abs twitch under his lips and teeth. He wants to fuck Yuuri on the carpet like an animal, drag Yuuri back onto his cock over and over. 

Viktor’s going to come if he doesn’t do anything about it soon, so he pulls off Yuuri with a sloppy pop just as Yuuri’s cock jumps in his mouth.

“ _No!_ ”, Yuuri cries, anguished, hips chasing after Viktor’s mouth; Viktor feels like preening, and so he does, grinning and smirking against the join of Yuuri’s thigh, resting his cheek there and taking a breather while Yuuri curses up a storm in Japanese, ending with more tugging at Viktor’s hair and a plea to “Give it to me, Vitya, come _on_.” 

“I’ll give it to you,” Viktor promises, and proceeds to mouth at Yuuri’s balls, making sure that Yuuri _feels_ the prickle of his cheek against the tender skin there, and knuckle at Yuuri’s perineum until, with another shriek, Yuuri comes all over himself and Viktor’s neck. 

 

**Day 10**

 

So Viktor kind of knows that his stubble does things to Yuuri. 

And Yuuri’s just innocently standing at the kitchen sink, washing up after their late dinner, and very innocently wearing the wide-necked cream aran jumper that made Viktor weak enough in the knees that Maccachin, still frisky after a brisk walk in the chippy November night, almost knocks him over.

“Ah, okaeri,” Yuuri calls, ruining all of Viktor’s plans to - do something sneaky about the jumper situation. 

Giving Maccachin an annoyed rub behind the ears, Viktor calls back, “Tadaima,” before lowering his voice. “Macca, look, now you’ve spoilt the surprise.” 

Maccachin unrepentantly pants up at him, tongue lolling out. 

Tableware clinks in the kitchen as Yuuri slots plates carefully into the dish rack. 

Viktor unclips the leash from Maccachin’s neck and gives her a pat on the rump. “Go on now, you’ve had your walk and your treat. To bed with you.” 

This, Maccachin obeys, at least, after trotting to the kitchen to drink water and say hi to Yuuri - Viktor’s insides go a bit gooey when he hears Yuuri coo a hello at Macca, and he fumbles a bit, taking off his gloves and coat. 

After making sure that the bedroom door is securely closed behind Macca, Viktor makes his way to the kitchen, crowds up behind Yuuri and slides his hands up under the apron that Yuuri’s wearing. 

“Hi.” He drops a kiss atop Yuuri’s head. “I missed you.”

Yuuri laughs and rinses out a pot. Rubbing it dry, he says, “It’s only been half an hour, Vitya.” 

Viktor at least _waits_ til the pot is safely put away before he ducks down to rub his ten-day growth against the stretch of smooth skin along the side of Yuuri’s neck and murmur, “Half an hour too long, sweetheart.” 

The way Yuuri goes tense in his arms makes Viktor come to attention, anticipatory, like a hunting dog. He’s not disappointed when Yuuri twists around and goes up on his toes to bite a punishing kiss onto Viktor’s lips, hands frantic at apron ties round the back of his neck. 

“ _Ah_ ,” Yuuri breathes out when the apron finally comes loose and slides off onto the floor. “I hate it when you do that.” 

“Do what?” Viktor’s playful, smirking, as he leans back a little so he can get his hands under that goddamn jumper. Yuuri’s skin is so warm underneath it - he has to get his mouth on it as soon as physically possible. 

Yuuri sighs as Viktor slides his hands up, exploratory over all that _skin_ and under the innocent jumper like a secret; Viktor can’t help but lean back in to take his mouth, press a series of lavish kisses to it until Yuuri’s making little pleading noises in the back of his throat and Yuuri’s hands are insistently pulling his hips closer. 

The jumper joins Yuuri’s apron on the floor soon enough, once they manage to fight it over Yuuri’s head - it takes Yuuri’s glasses with it, and then Yuuri’s blinking owlishly at him from mere inches away, and Viktor’s heart squeezes because Yuuri’s so _beautiful_ , all long, lush lashes dipping over eyes glassy with desire. 

And then Yuuri winds his arms around Viktor’s neck and reels him in, and the languid and heady night combusts right there and then, in the way Yuuri kisses Viktor, open-mouthed, running his tongue over the sensitive hard roof of Viktor’s mouth and then sucking on Viktor’s tongue like he wishes it were something else. When they part for breath, there’s a feverish flush high on Yuuri’s cheeks and Viktor has pressed so close that Yuuri is half bent over the still-filled sink; Yuuri’s eyes have already gone heavy-lidded, and his mouth is cherry-red and obscenely wet.

“God,” Viktor groans, heartfelt, and dives back in, the hand fisted in the back of Yuuri’s hair holding his head in place so that Viktor can just take, fuck into Yuuri’s mouth with his tongue while worming the other hand down the back of Yuuri’s fleece bottoms. Yuuri groans, full-throated, when Viktor spreads his cheeks one handed and _holds_ there, just ... letting them both feel the anticipation as they grind. Breaking the kiss, Viktor breathes, “Can I?”

“Yes,” Yuuri gasps, and turns, wanton, in Viktor’s hold, so he’s bent over clear countertop and pressing back into Viktor’s crotch. “ _Please_.” 

“God-” Viktor grinds into him, before pulling back to undo his jeans and shove them down his hips at the same time Yuuri is getting very, very naked. Viktor’s never been more pleased with his predilection for going commando in his life, when there’s immediate relief as his cock bobs out in the air.

Viktor closes in to tuck his cock between Yuuri’s plush cheeks, slipping the wet head teasingly against where Yuuri clearly wants it as he goes, judging by the rude Japanese that Yuuri spits out. 

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Viktor croons into the back of his neck, and sucks nasty, open-mouthed kisses down Yuuri’s back as he sinks to his knees, lingering over the swell of Yuuri’s ass out from the small of his back. Yuuri kicks out at him for that, petulant, and Viktor goes “whoa!” as he almost loses his balance. 

Smacking Yuuri on one pert cheek, he says, “Hey,” reprovingly. 

“Get on with it, then,” Yuuri retorts, unrepentant and bossy. 

Behaviour like that, Viktor reflects, really shouldn’t be encouraged.

But his cock is aching and Yuuri is gorgeous - all the time - but especially like this, so he spreads Yuuri apart, buries his face in that dark, faintly soap-smelling heat, and licks over the tight pucker of skin - Yuuri judders like lightning’s just gone through him, before he goes pliant, and Viktor loves this too, the way Yuuri goes loose and open all over, yielding to Viktor’s mouth insistent and sucking over him, yielding to Viktor’s tongue fucking him wet and open, yielding to the abject wreck that Viktor’s going to make of him. 

Viktor pulls back and rasps out, “Lube,” before diving back in. Yuuri’s making so much noise over him, little moans and gasps, but he can still hear Yuuri wrenching the odd-ends drawer open and pawing through it, half-blind, for the travel-sized lube Viktor’d got on sale at the pharmacist’s. 

The tube is dropped onto his thigh, and Viktor blindly grasps for it before it rolls too far away. 

“Hur _ry_ ,” Yuuri begs, as Viktor is slicking up his fingers. 

The wriggling ass in his face is too much, and Viktor squirts the lube directly onto the red, swollen rosebud of Yuuri’s asshole. Yuuri squeaks, and that melts away into a moan when Viktor starts rubbing it in - his knees buckle when Viktor works his tongue in alongside his finger.

Scooting back so he’s leaning against the island cabinets, Viktor tugs Yuuri down and back, fingers pressing slick into Yuuri’s hips. 

Yuuri folds gracefully - even when desperate for it he’s graceful - onto his knees, so he’s ass up towards Viktor, elbows and head down on the pile of discarded clothes.

“Darling,” Viktor breathes reverently, “No, like this,” and turns Yuuri over, hauls him in so hips are tilted up and his legs are flung over Viktor’s back, the hard ridge of Viktor’s nose wedged against the taut, hot skin of Yuuri’s perineum as he licks back into Yuuri and fits three fingers into him at the same time. The slick, messy sounds of his fingers squelching in and out of Yuuri is making Viktor drip over the kitchen tile beneath him - Yuuri whimpers, then clenches down _hard_ and wails when Viktor thrusts his fingers in up and hard against his prostate. 

There are fingers in his hair, suddenly, Yuuri tugging him up and away, whimpering, “Now, now,” and there’s a rush to rearrange themselves, Yuuri’s legs slipping down so his thighs are splayed over Viktor’s, and Viktor’s knees are padded by Yuuri’s fleece bottoms. 

No teasing this time - Viktor holds Yuuri open with his thumbs and watches the way Yuuri bites at his bottom lip as the head of his cock pops in, the way Yuuri’s mouth falls open when the ridge of his glans rubs past the much-loved ring of skin; then how Yuuri’s flush deepens as Viktor sinks deeper into his silky, searing heat; then the blissed out look as Yuuri’s eyes slip shut when Viktor bottoms out, balls pressing up against his ass. It’s so good like this, his cock twitching and throbbing in Yuuri, the way Yuuri clings to him all over, the trembling and wet clutch of Yuuri.

Shifting his grip on Yuuri, who’s got his arms around Viktor’s neck again, Viktor savours the way Yuuri’s eyes fly open in overwhelmed shock when he bounces him in his lap, once, twice, before burying his face in Yuuri’s neck, scraping his teeth and beard over the skin stretched thin over Yuuri’s apple, latching onto the thin underside of his neck. 

The way Yuuri’s fingers immediately tangle painfully in his hair and press at the back of his neck sends little licks of satisfaction through Viktor’s belly. The way Yuuri rocks down onto him, moaning like a fucking whore, makes Viktor grind harder up into Yuuri. Nuzzling and sucking bruises his way down Yuuri’s neck and collarbone, he gently pushes Yuuri over into an arch worthy of an Ina Bauer, one hand at the base of his spine and the other mid-back.

Viktor regrets, vaguely, the loss of Yuuri’s hands on his head, when Yuuri reaches over his own to press his hands against the cabinets behind him - they both cry out at that, the way it changes the angle of Viktor’s cock in Yuuri. Yuuri doesn’t really stop, his shout softening into little, desperate mewls that tear at Viktor’s belly. 

“Okay?” he pants out, still fucking into Yuuri in short, grinding thrusts, still trying not to completely lose it at the way Yuuri is twisting his hips for more. 

Yuuri’s chest is heaving, pink, and gleaming with a faint film of sweat.

“Oh-” Yuuri gasps out, “Okay.” 

“You’re so good for me,” Viktor tells him, and gives Yuuri a particularly hard thrust. Yuuri jerks and wails again, and Viktor leans over to rub his jaw against Yuuri’s right nipple. 

This, predictably, makes Yuuri go wild; it makes Viktor lose his head, too: having a crying, wantonly lovely creature writhing in his lap, seizing unpredictably around his cock as he fucks into him, alternating between laving at and scraping his stubble over Yuuri’s nipples.

Yuuri’s screams seem to be trapped in his chest now, coming out as barely aspirated _”Haaa”_ s as he gulps for air; Viktor can hear himself moaning in counterpoint to it, and underpinning all that the wet, filthy drag of his cock against Yuuri, the slap of his balls against Yuuri’s skin, the lower drumming of Yuuri’s hands desperately beating against the wooden door behind him. Caught between their bodies, Yuuri is steadily leaking all over their bellies, slicking up their skin. 

He’s close, so Viktor rises up onto his haunches a little, angles his hips so that a thin scream tears itself out of Yuuri’s throat as he ripples all around Viktor, painting their bellies white, back arching even more as he tries to get Viktor in even deeper. Viktor gathers Yuuri upright and close against himself, rolling his hips steadily into Yuuri as Yuuri is coming down from his orgasm and dropping biting kisses all over Viktor's shoulders, feeling his heavy balls tighten up as Yuuri’s post-orgasm tremors shiver through both of them. Viktor digs his fingers into and drags them up the hard muscle on either side of Yuuri’s spine, so that Yuuri tenses up around him again. He groans, gravelly and low, when Yuuri weakly breathes into his ear, “I want,” and, “Please,” and sighs out “fill me up,” relaxing just after Viktor’s hips lose their rhythm and his vision goes white. 

 

**Day 11**

 

It’s Viktor who wakes up the next morning in a _mood_ , and Yuuri has a tendency to kick the sheets off him so that he’s bared to the soft morning light - one long line of smooth, milky skin marred by pink beard-burn and dark red lovebites. It’s too tempting, and Viktor is a weak, weak man, so he gently pulls Yuuri’s hips up to tuck a pillow beneath them - Yuuri only shifts and mutters something incomprehensible - before spreading Yuuri’s cheeks to just - look; he looks at where Yuuri’s still a little wet, glistening with lube and Viktor’s own saliva and come, a little puffy and dark pink, and feels a throb of desire down to his toes. The usually white skin that smooths down to where Viktor really wants to put his mouth again is pink with irritation, even after the aloe that Viktor had salved over it yesterday night.

Ah, well. He dips in with his fingers first, testing, but Yuuri’s still loose after their utterly depraved fuck, and the ring of muscle gives easily. Unable to hold back any longer, Viktor licks a stripe up from Yuuri’s taint - Yuuri’s foot twitches next to his elbow - and starts little kitten licks over his hot, soft hole. They cleaned up, of course, before going to bed yesterday night, but Viktor kind of wishes Yuuri still had his come in him, that Viktor could eat it out of him. 

Yuuri comes to already whimpering, and he makes a deliciously overwhelmed, vulnerable noise, hips moving back against Viktor’s mouth. “Wha - _haa-ah_ -Vitya?” The _ya_ goes up on a hitch as Viktor sucks over the hungry, grasping clutch of him, humming around the seal of his mouth, tongue flexing within Yuuri. 

“Ohhhh,” Yuuri sighs, and his pillow rustles as he rubs his face into it. “Tha- tha’s _ni-ice_.” 

Stiffening his tongue, Viktor starts thrusting in and out with it, saliva pooling in his mouth and dripping over his chin. He wipes it up and absently starts rubbing it into the skin behind Yuuri’s balls, which gets Yuuri louder, gets him to start pushing his hips back for more.

“Ah, ah, _ah_ ,” he sobs out, as Viktor switches to stroking his fingers into Yuuri and sucking at his perineum, pressing down on his prostate from the outside as his fingers rub aching circles on it from the inside. 

Viktor sits up to take Yuuri in, replacing the pressure on Yuuri’s perineum with his thumb: Yuuri, caught on his fingers and helpless with pleasure, is wretchedly alluring.

“God, Yuuri, you’re so gorgeous,” Viktor murmurs, pressing the heel of his hand to his cock to take some pressure off. 

Yuuri turns his head to look dazedly at him - he catches wet gleam in Yuuri’s eyes, blown wide and dark, and ducks down to lick around his fingers until Yuuri quakes and spills over the pillow. 

Viktor flips Yuuri over, tossing the pillow off the bed, barely letting Yuuri catch his breath before kissing him, grinding desperately into the groove of his hip, listening to Yuuri murmur encouragement in his ear until he, too, came in a sticky wet rush over their hips.

They lie there like that, cooling down rapidly with the covers wrinkled at their feet, until Yuuri laughs breathily. “Another pillow bites the dust, huh?” 

 

*

 

[instagram image: Viktor, rumpled, in bed against dark grey sheets, equally rumpled. He has a good, even dark blond growth along his cheeks and around his lips, which are very red and wet; at this angle, faint stubble is also visible on his neck. The tops of his shoulders, bare, are visible, as are a scattering of faint hickeys that look like they’re on the verge of blossoming. Viktor has not succeeded in cropping out all hints of Yuuri; tufts of inky hair are just about visible in the bottom left corner of the photograph.]

 **movember_official** さん、他800 128 人が　「いいね！」しました

 **v-nikiforov** Looking good, we think! ))) if you think so too, please contribute to medical research about cancer  here and read more about Movember here. thank you for all your support so far! )))))

#day 11 #movember #humpday #wednesday #wokeuplikethis #selfie

他のコメントを表示：

 **phichit+chu** jesus wept, guys, you need to slap #nsfw on this. My innocent eyes!  
**christophe-gc** euh, maybe they don’t want people who track the tag to find this.  
**mhairi_skates** ...w o w i feel like i’m not old enough to look at this and i’m ancient.  
**loop_this** this is one follicularly gifted man. I can’t believe we’ve been denied for YEARS.  
**v-nikiforov** yuuri says there are nothing innocent about your eyes, phichit *)))))

 

**Day 17**

 

The articles on the internet seem to be cumulatively accurate: Viktor’s beard has been coming in quickly past the 10 day stubble mark. Yuuri seems to find his facial hair compelling no matter the length - Viktor is sometimes tempted to grow it out to dedushka-lengths and test this hypothesis to its limits. 

They’re cuddled together on this beautiful Tuesday evening after a strenuous day of conditioning and fine-tuning jump entries for Yuuri, and trying not to be overcome by the flex of Yuuri’s lower body muscles under clingy yoga pants for Viktor. But now, anyway, they’re both showered and warm and tangled together on the sofa, making out lazily as the TV buzzes in the background: some old Russian procedural. 

The warm, elegantly long fingers cupping Viktor’s face have, at some point, started stroking his whiskery cheeks; Viktor’s dick twinges a little in warning, but he ignores it as long as Yuuri keeps on sucking his lip like that. But then the stroking fingers turn into nuzzling (“it’s so soft now,” Yuuri marvels against his cheek, “but ... ticklish still? I don’t know, but it feels nice.”), and then _that_ somehow turns into Yuuri pushing him to his knees in front of the couch - the same position they were in almost a fortnight ago when Viktor twigged to exactly how much Yuuri liked his stubble.

“I want to,” Yuuri gulps, flushing; Viktor is enraptured, and reaches up to cup his face in his hands. “Vitya, let me ... on your face?” 

Viktor blinks at him, smile growing on his face and a coo building in his chest. 

They banned themselves from anything overly athletic since The Kitchen Thing, as Yuuri embarrassedly called it, eyes averted, wincing as he landed jumps. So in the past week they’ve contented themselves - and well contented Viktor has been - with 69ing it: Viktor taking fully ruthless advantage of the way Yuuri goes to pieces under the power of his beard, the way he goes, from making Viktor want to shake apart with clever little curls of his tongue against the thick vein running up Viktor’s cock and coy sucking at his balls, to moaning, mouth lax and wet, so that Viktor can thrust right down the tight, perfect heat of Yuuri’s throat while going to town on Yuuri. 

Yurio’s been giving Yuuri threateningly concerned looks at the rink; Yuuri talks with the sexiest little rasp now. 

So yes, Viktor understands if Yuuri wants a break, and Viktor is _completely_ into Yuuri coming on his face.

Kneeling up, Viktor kisses Yuuri sweetly, in counterpoint to the way he’s already slipping a hand under the waistband of Yuuri’s sweats. Drawing back, Viktor says, “Gladly, sweetheart,” and sinks back down onto his haunches. 

 

**Day 21**

 

It was probably inevitable that they would end up fucking at the rink.

“You keep _touching_ your _face_ ,” Yuuri tells him resentfully, backing Viktor up against the rink barrier, one late night. 

“I -” Viktor tries, though he has no idea what to say in his defence. It’s a tic of his, he knows. 

Yuuri tilts onto his toe picks, nuzzles into him and _sighs_. It’s the sigh that undoes Viktor: a happy, contented little thing, like Yuuri could quite happily stay there, cheek to cheek, weight resting mostly on Viktor and his frankly _freezing_ gloves melting into Viktor’s hip. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs. “Your hands are freezing.” 

“Mmf,” Yuuri responds. 

“Sweetheart, come on.” 

Yuuri _bites_ him, and Viktor goes from 0 to 60 so fast he’s almost dizzy with it.

There’s a pause; no way Yuuri didn’t notice how Viktor just got really hard, the way they’re pressed together.

“...Oh?” Yuuri says, and the timbre of his voice makes Viktor tremble. “Oh. Well.”

Viktor waits, trusting in the rink barrier to hold them both up and praying to a god he doesn’t really believe in for strength.

“Vitya,” purrs Yuuri. “Fuck me.” 

They stagger to the deserted locker room, where Viktor gets Yuuri wet with his tongue and mouth and an emergency packet of lube, and then has Yuuri up against the wall, gravity doing half the work for them as he buries his face in Yuuri’s neck and Yuuri moans like he’s dying, legs tight around Viktor’s waist and fingernails scratching viciously down Viktor’s back.

 

**Day 28**

 

[Viktor’s wrapped in a wine-red scarf and has a plaid shirt on, trench coat open over it. His beard is full, the neck stubble expertly faded, and he actually looks his age for once. He’s twisted to face the photographer, a warm laugh in his eyes. A door is pushed half-open behind him; at half-height a large, fluffy poodle grins at the camera through the gap]

 **phichit+chu** さん、他901 728 人が　「いいね！」しました

 

 **v-nikiforov** can’t believe it’s been almost 30 days! I’ve really connected with my inner lumberjack, but even when the beard goes, the connection will stay. Movember isn’t just for November - you can read more about their work  here.

we’ve reached almost half a million dollars in the last 28 days. Yuuri and I are excited to make that a full million, so please contribute to medical research about cancer here if you can! thank you for your amazing support from all over the world! )))))

#day 28 #movember #yuurikatsuki #imalumberjackandimokay #moisturise #beardoil #detroitgroomingco #corktowngroomingoil

他のコメントを表示：  
**aleksandrovechkinofficial** wow!!!is good playoff beard!! you are a real #icedaddy now хахахаха have donated my friend )))  
**bearded_willows** what kind of moisturiser do you use, man, asking for a friend.  
**christophe-gc** ah, but who will miss it more? ;)))  
**v-nikiforov** Спасибо @ **aleksandrovechkinofficial**! @ **christophe-gc** yuuri says “ CHRIS!!!!!!!!!! (〃ﾟдﾟ〃)”  
**veni.vedi.victuuri** paging @ **catskins** , i need CPR

 

*

 

“Well, darling,” Viktor smiles at Yuuri, perched naked in his lap. “It’s your birthday in ... an hour. What do you want?”

Viktor let them take the afternoon off so they could spend it skating in lazy figures around the rink, falling in and out of their exhibition skate - Viktor was choreographing a new one for Worlds as a birthday present to both Yuuri and himself. 

They left teasing, fleeting touches on each other’s skin; Viktor stroking across the line of Yuuri’s hip, Yuuri running his hand down Viktor’s chest.

Separate showers didn’t do much, not when Yuuri left the bathroom door open, a clear invitation, his lithe torso bent under the fall of water visible even through the clouds of steam. Viktor, proud of his self-restraint for once, hid in the kitchen and made dinner. 

And then dinner - pulling Yuuri, shower-damp and smelling of Viktor’s soap, into his lap and hand-feeding him katsudon; relishing the way Yuuri leaned happily into him and scraped bite-sized pieces of pork and rice, stuck together with egg and sauce, off his chopsticks; sharing the Royce chocolate truffles that Yurio’d brought back from the NHK Trophy for them. They melted so quickly, those chocolates, especially in the shared heat of their mouths.

No wonder the simmering heat in Yuuri’s eyes now, the colour of and as sweetly spicy as dark rum. 

Yuuri leans forward - they both groan as his weight shifts - and says, “Fuck me open, Viktor.”

He gasps at that - the throatiness of the order, and the peremptory tone of it - heat lancing through his belly. 

“As you wish,” he says, faintly registering the way his own voice has dropped into his chest, fingers shaking a little as he spills lube over them, rubbing to warm them up. It’s hard to concentrate, when Yuuri’s a warm, gyrating weight in his lap, hot like the filthiest of promises on his aching cock. “Okay, up, up.” 

Yuuri leans up enough for Viktor to tuck his hand underneath him, the meat of his palm pressing against the base of Yuuri’s cock, and sighs out a moan when Viktor eases two fingers in, easy as anything. He’s hot and already slick inside; the bottom of Viktor’s stomach drops out when he realises that Yuuri’s been - 

“So _wet_ for you,” Yuuri mouths at his ear. “Since, _hnn_ , my shower.”

Viktor’s going to leave this mortal plane. He adds another finger and nudges Yuuri further up onto his knees, so Viktor has more leverage to thrust harder. 

“More,” Yuuri orders, grinding down forcefully..

“God, sweetheart,” Viktor gasps. “ _I’m_ not going to last at this rate.” 

“Really?” Yuuri blinks at him, looking deceptively innocent, before lifting off Viktor’s fingers and crawling over to their bedside drawer for - oh god. He comes back with the black, silicone cock ring they use for the days when Yuuri is insatiable, and makes Viktor put his fingers back. Today probably counts. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Viktor says, because Yuuri is warm and commanding in his lap, and clenching around his fingers in ways that go straight to his cock. 

They’re pressed so close together, Yuuri hovering a little over Viktor as he rubs lube over the inside of the cock ring and slides it gently over and down until it nestles at the base of Viktor’s cock. And then he fists Viktor’s cock loosely and jerks him cruelly once, twice, and Viktor just sits back and _feels_ , cock sensitive and fully hard now. 

“I want it,” Yuuri says contemplatively, as he strokes his thumb over the sticky, wet head of Viktor’s cock. When Viktor wrenches his eyes open, Yuuri is staring down at where he’s torturing Viktor into insanity, making Viktor drip all over his hand and down his shaft. 

Turnabout is fair play - Viktor adjusts the angle of his wrist and curls his fingers up and towards Yuuri’s pelvis, stroking hard - Yuuri lets out a wail and collapses forward over Viktor, catching himself on the headboard. He pants out, “Now, please, t-tomorrow.” They’re cheek to cheek now - and he _knows_ the brushing of his beard against the sensitive skin of Yuuri’s jawline is only going drive Yuuri even more wanton. 

He pets insistently at Yuuri’s prostate to see what else he babbles, bites at Yuuri’s ear, and isn’t disappointed.

“I want you to, _aahn_ , tomorrow, t-take me on the balcony,” Yuuri confesses through heaving breaths, toes curling in the sheets. “I know you’ve always wanted to.”

“You too,” Viktor points out more calmly than he’s feeling, changing the petting to a slow, insistent rub.

“Mmm, well,” Yuuri tries to retort. “Hnnn, _aaaah_ ,” and comes for the first time that night. It’s one of Viktor’s many favourite things about Yuuri, how he hardly ever gets soft after orgasming the first time. 

Smirking, Viktor says, “Thought so.” 

“F- _uh_ - _fuck_ me.”

“Does that mean I win?” Viktor asks cheekily, sliding his fingers out of Yuuri.

Yuuri glares at him. “ _Get in me_.”

“Like this?” Viktor asks, one hand on Yuuri’s hip and the other, messier one, holding his cock in place. 

Yuuri exhales exasperatedly and sinks down with a “ _Yeesssss_ ,” and then makes a moue. “Vitya, _you_ do the fucking.”

Somehow, Viktor finds it in himself to laugh - they both gasp at the feeling of it, Viktor’s laughter quaking through where they’re joined together. 

“Okay,” he says, and draws Yuuri down to kiss, planting his feet firmly on the bed. “Fucking you now, love.” 

“I think,” Yuuri says dreamily, some time later, from where Viktor’s tipped him over onto his back and is thrusting into him, eternally fascinated by the sight of his cock disappearing into Yuuri: the tight, wet ring of Yuuri giving around Viktor’s girth. “I think perhaps you should eat me out on the balcony instead.”

Viktor would’ve come if not for the trapping pressure of the ring around his cock; he tears up instead, at the pressure in his balls and thwarted relief. 

“Oh, Viktor,” Yuuri says, in that same dreamy, fucked out tone. “You’re crying?” And reaches up to thumb at the hairless skin under his cheek; like gravity, like moths to a lamp, his hand slips down to caress Viktor’s cheek. “I want to feel you between my thighs, Vitya.”

Viktor draws almost all the way out and slams back into Yuuri, his own thighs burning. Yuuri screams, back curving; the curvature of his spine is a beautiful thing, the way Yuuri chokes on his own breath as Viktor gives it to him good.

Somehow, over the pounding of the blood in his ears, Viktor manages to make out Yuuri panting “off, off, off” and groans in relief.

“Wait, sweetheart, wait,” he begs, pulling out and starts easing the ring off, gripping the base of his cock as he does so, to stave off orgasm. It’s nearly for naught, when Yuuri reaches down to tuck long, elegant fingers into himself, eyes dark and challenging on Viktor’s. “ _Fuck_!” 

The cock ring ends up tossed ... somewhere, as Viktor reaches down to fold Yuuri over, thighs over his shoulders and worrying with his teeth at the tender skin inside his knee, before losing himself in Yuuri. 

 

**Day 29**

 

Yuuri’s birthday dawns, but neither of them notice until the sun is high in the sky.

“We have to take a picture,” Yuuri groans into Viktor’s shoulder. He’d sort of collapsed on top of Viktor after riding his face, after waking Viktor up and telling him that he could still feel Viktor’s come sliding out of him and to please do something about it. Viktor’d never woken up that fast in his life before. 

“Katsuki Yuuri and his pet mountain-man,” Viktor rasps out. Eating Yuuri out without drinking water beforehand is weirdly drying for the mouth. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri hums, and strokes at his face. “Do you want to fuck me?” 

Viktor looks up to the ceiling and shakes his head regretfully. “I think I’ll save it for later, darling.”

“Oh,” says Yuuri, sounding mildly disappointed. He sits up to get Viktor a drink of water, and Viktor can only be grateful that he at least waits until Viktor is done and the glass is safely put away to curl his fingers around Viktor’s half-hard cock and say in that whiskey-dark tone that never fails to touch fire to the lighter fluid running in Viktor’s veins, “Can I convince you?” 

By mutual, silent agreement, they have a nap once Viktor’s done fucking Yuuri sloppier and eaten his come out of Yuuri again, and then it’s time for actual food and making themselves presentable, so that Yuuri can skype his family without scandalising anyone. 

Viktor changes the bedsheets while Yuuri holds a rapidfire and high energy conversation in the living room, which Maccachin contributes to enthusiastically. 

“Where’s Vicchan?” he hears Hiroko-san ask as he’s loading their soiled bedsheets into the washing machine and adding a cap of disinfectant to it. 

“Ah,” Yuuri says, and turns around to look at Viktor. He’s wearing an oversized Detroit Skating Club hoodie, but Viktor can very well visualise the way his body is twisting underneath all that cloth, and almost drops the bottle of fabric softener onto his foot. Yuuri smiles at him like he _knows_ , before turning back to the computer. “He’s busy with some chores, kaa-san. But he’ll come by in a bit.” 

Hiroko-san humphs at that, and Viktor hurriedly shoves the washing machine door shut and starts the programme. 

When he manages to trip over Maccachin and crash-land onto the sofa next to Yuuri’s head, Toshiya-san is updating Yuuri about the fortunes of Saga Tosu and Mari is interrupting with updates about the betting pool that Minako-san is running. 

“Ah!” Hiroko-san claps her hands, interrupting. “Vicchan! Look at your beard!” 

“Ah,” comments Toshiya-san. “Now that’s a beard. Too bad Yuuri’s just like me and can’t grow one.” 

“Wow,” says Mari, raising an eyebrow. Viktor can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not. Then she says, “I didn’t know you liked that kind of thing, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri goes red as a tomato and buries his face in Viktor’s knee, whining, “Mari-neeeeee.” 

“You’re so cute,” Viktor tells him, before looking up to see the Katsuki family smiling at them. 

“Screenshot,” says Mari in her lazy deadpan, and holds up her fingers like a camera frame. “I’ll send it to you.” 

 

*

 

[instagram image: A grey sofa forms the large part of the background, with a modern, airy kitchen visible in the top third of the photograph. Viktor is turned half away from the computer, and is looking down Yuuri. All that is visible of Yuuri is his mop of fly-away hair and the tops of his ears, very pink. The fondness on Viktor’s face is visible in the crinkle of his eyes and through his beard.]

 **phichit+chu** さん、他 799 984 人が　「いいね！」しました

 

 **v-nikiforov** it’s #yuurikatsuki’s birthday! skyping with the family ))) 

please donate here, and learn more about Movember and its work here. we are matching dollar for dollar and hope to get to a million! 

#day29 #movember #yuurikatsuki

他のコメントを表示：  
**mila-babicheva** this is surprisingly wholesome  
**yuri-plisetsky** DON’T ENCOURAGE THEM

*

The sun is setting when they finally get round to fulfilling Yuuri’s fantasy - they don’t actually have travel lube hidden anywhere on the balcony, and Yuuri huffily presses Viktor down onto the chaise-longue with one hand with an order to “stay,” before stalking awkwardly back into the living room to retrieve the lube from the fireplace mantel, and back out. 

“My cock got cold,” Viktor tells Yuuri winsomely. 

“Whose fault is _that_ ,” says Yuuri bitchily, before dropping back down onto Viktor and they proceed to thoroughly warm each other up.

It’s beautiful, the way Yuuri’s been fucked so open in the past twenty-four hours by Viktor’s fingers, mouth, cock; he sinks down onto Viktor so easily, his insides shifting and yielding so Viktor settles in deep.

It’s beautiful, too, how Yuuri can’t keep quiet, how Viktor has to say “Shh, darling, shhh” over and over, tuck Yuuri’s face into his neck as he holds Yuuri’s hips in place and fucks up into him, glancing against Yuuri’s prostate on every up-thrust, making Yuuri hitch out broken moans and clench dizzyingly around him whenever Viktor pulls back out. 

The long, loose ends of Viktor’s dressing gown flap around them, closing them in a silky den of sin; over Yuuri’s shoulder, the sun is bleeding out across the sky, tingeing the clouds gold and pink. The temperature is starting to drop, and Yuuri shivers a little when the breeze lifts the hair at the back of his neck. Viktor quickens his thrusts, planting his feet firmer against the balcony floor, making them short and powerful.

In the distance, the roar of rush hour traffic drones louder; in his ears, Yuuri’s moans are getting higher and louder. 

“Come on, love,” Viktor coaxes, closing his eyes as he feels Yuuri start to come apart. “That’s it, you feel so amazing, sweetheart, come for me.” 

There’s no muffling Yuuri’s broken cry when he seizes up and comes, not when Viktor tips over right after him and bites a rosy mark high on Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri clings to Viktor after, makes Viktor carry him in all the way to the shower to warm up, when the cold really sets in.

Under the stinging spray of the shower, Viktor smooths soap over Yuuri’s back and tells him, “You’re so spoilt, my love.”

“Mm,” Yuuri smiles up at him, dimpling and content. “And whose fault is that?”

“I expect the same treatment on my birthday, mind.” 

Yuuri dips his eyes to half-mast, smile slipping darker and filthier. “Of course.” 

 

* 

 

They take poor, neglected Maccachin out for a walk and to acquire dinner, and then settle to cuddling in bed.

Yuuri pets Viktor’s face mournfully. “I can’t believe it’s going to be gone so soon.”

“It can grow back, darling.” Viktor turns his face to kiss Yuuri’s fingertips. 

Viktor kind of ends up with his face between Yuuri’s thighs again. He’s still sloppy, puckered ring of flesh pink with abuse and glossy. It gives unresistingly when Viktor presses a finger in, and Viktor watches in fascination when he draws his finger back out, coated in the remnants of their earlier exertions. 

“I like it,” Yuuri says shyly, in complete juxtaposition to the moment. “Feeling like .. like you’re still in me.”

“Even when we were buying golubtsy from Old Man Nikolyev?” Viktor asks mildly incredulously. He likes feeling Yuuri in him too, whenever Yuuri fucks him, but - he also feels the need to clean up after. 

Yuuri buries his face back in the pillow. “You’re judging me.” 

“No, no, darling,” Viktor hurries to reassure him. “I’m not, I just ... that’s ... kind of sexy?” His cock says so, anyway, and he grinds into Yuuri’s plush ass. “See?” 

Yuuri’s shoulders shake, and Viktor is _worried_ until he realises that Yuuri’s laughing at him. 

“What kind of argument is that?” 

“It’s not,” Viktor says, and kisses the back of Yuuri’s shoulder, the nape of his neck, the curve of his jaw. “Let’s not argue.” 

“Mmm,” Yuuri twists around to catch Viktor’s mouth with his own, suck Viktor’s lower lip into his own and nip at it. “Okay. As you were, then.” 

 

**Day 30**

 

[instagram image: Viktor in his practice gear and with a TEAM RUSSIA toque on, puffy jacket tied around his waist; he is facing the photographer, smile eclipsing his full beard, eyes very blue (though that might also be the filter), clearly caught mid-laugh. He also has a hell of a hickey on his collarbone. ]

 **mila-babicheva** さん、他 908 036 人が　「いいね！」しました

 

 **v-nikiforov** it’s the last day! thank you everyone who sent #yuurikatsuki birthday wishes yesterday, and yes yuuri’s been my photographer - isn’t he talented?? ))) 

thanks to your amazing contributions, we have reached our aim of 1 million USD! you can still continue donating here, and learn more about Movember and its work here. 

#day 30 #movember #selfie #everythingonice #practice #yuurikatsuki

他のコメントを表示：  
**yuri-plisetsky** is that why you FELL DOWN SO MANY TIMES TODAY, old man??  
**v-nikiforov** we’ll tell you when you’re older yura ))))  
**christophe-gc** ooh la la  <3  
**catskins** amazing effort, lads, happy to have donated. Will you be keeping the beard, @ **v-nikiforov**?

 

*

 

It’s kind of hard to skate when Yuuri’s looking at him so forlornly. Or rather: his beard. 

“Yuuri, sweetheart,” Viktor says, shredding to a stop. “You have to stop looking at me like that.” 

“Are you really going to shave it off?” Yuuri asks reaching out before retracting his hand. His cold, ice-encrusted, be-gloved hand. 

Viktor laughed and took Yuuri’s hand in his own, peeling the glove off and holding Yuuri’s hand to his cheek. “I’ve forgotten what I look like under all this, I think.” 

Yuuri gives him the look that says he thinks Viktor is an idiot, but a sweet, loveable idiot who’s very good at making him come. 

“Keep it til tomorrow,” Yuuri says. “Please?” 

“Yuuri,” Viktor says seriously, because he is over thirty and they had sex basically all weekend and his hips aren’t quite what they used to be. “We have practice tomorrow.”

Yuuri flushes, as beautifully as ever, and bites his lip enticingly. 

Later that night, when they’re sweaty and their come is mixed on Yuuri’s thighs and belly, and they’re sticking together but not _too_ disgustingly yet, Viktor says, “I’m shaving the beard off, but do you think you’d like chest hair, sweetheart?”

Yuuri hums and traces a lazy circle down Viktor’s sternum, before breaking off to circle his nipple. 

“I don’t know.” Yuuri lifts his head up to look at Viktor from under his eyelashes, sweet and sleepy, with a hint of heat in his eyes. “Let’s find out.”

終りだ

**Author's Note:**

> BEARD FACTS (according to the internet)  
> \- women find the 10 day growth the sexiest  
> \- [15 things not to do](http://www.gq.com/story/beard-guide-extra) if you have a beard  
> \- beard oils are actually a thing and i agonised for ages (5 minutes) over [which one viktor would use](http://www.askmen.com/grooming/appearance/best-beard-oils-reviewed.html). beard combs also exist. #themoreyouknow  
> \- "follicularly gifted" is stolen from a GQ guide to growing your beard in 5 weeks
> 
> ( **eta** : rather belatedly, commissioned art for the fic [here](https://forochel.tumblr.com/post/166195501777/so-a-long-time-ago-i-commissioned-iruutciv-to).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] i wanna feel you from the inside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362252) by [read by lunchee (lunchee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchee/pseuds/read%20by%20lunchee)




End file.
